


The Adventures of Torchwood House

by celedan



Category: Torchwood
Genre: A Lot Of Snippets Put Together In A Story, Domesticity, Humor, Ianto the Archivist, Jack can't keep his hands with him, M/M, No Steamy Sex Scenes For A Change, Queen Victoria's Bed, Silly Situations, Slime Alien, The Coat - Freeform, Torchwood House, can't think of anything else, couple fluff, silly Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 06:50:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13735440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celedan/pseuds/celedan
Summary: Ianto has to go to Torchwood House for a few weeks to get some order into the Archives there. Since Jack can't stop moaning and whining about missing Ianto, the team bundles him up into the next train, and sends him to Scotland.





	The Adventures of Torchwood House

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Email My Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580462) by [cazmalfoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazmalfoy/pseuds/cazmalfoy). 



> This story came about because I had a lot of snippets that didn't fit into any of my current stories, but I liked them very much nonetheless. So, I simply wove a story around them where they all fit into^^.  
> The concept is somewhat influenced by cazmalfoys hilarious “Email My Heart”, by the way.

“For the last time, Jack, no!” Ianto groused, not stopping to wait for the Captain as they both exited the lower levels, probably the Archives. From the exasperated tone of Ianto's voice, the argument was going on for some time now.  
“Why not?!” Jack cried after him, offended, hurrying after the younger man, trying to intercept him at the coffee machine.  
“Because I want to be done with the whole thing before the tourists start invading in April.” Briskly, Ianto set about making the team their afternoon coffee. “Stupid tourists,” he grumbled while viciously pushing buttons on his sacred coffee maker. “Who said it was a good idea to open up a top secret facility for visitors anyway!? Does the Royal family even know what we're storing there! But no, we have to leave tourists trampling over our heads!”  
Jack snickered fondly at Ianto's grouching, forgetting all of his miffed mood himself. “Oh, you Welsh. I love your complaining!”  
Ianto threw him a scathing look before he went back to his task again.  
“Ehm, excuse me,” Owen threw in sarcastically. “Clueless people here.”  
Jack turned to his team that had stopped working to look at them expectantly. He crossed his arms before his chest and planted his feet apart, puffing himself up in what Gwen called Captain's pose.   
“Archie called,” he explained. “He asked if I could send Ianto over to Torchwood House to bring a bit of order again into the Archives, he can't find a thing down there.”  
“Torchwood House?” Gwen quibbed in. “That's... Torchwood Two, right? This Archie is Torchwood Two.”  
Owen rolled his eyes, and Ianto did as well in sympathy. “Still not done your homework.” Owen shook his head pityingly, Gwen's hackles promptly rising. “Archie is our one-man show for Torchwood Two in Glasgow, yeah, but Torchwood House is the original Scottish estate where Queen Victoria was attacked by a werewolf and saved by the Doctor in 1893 resulting in her founding the Torchwood institute. It's at the arse end of nowhere.”  
“Aberdeenshire,” Ianto threw in from the coffee machine.  
“Yeah, like I said,” Owen continued, unfazed. “Anyway, the Torchwood Archives are situated there.”  
“When the other facilities ran out of space to store their stuff, it was decided that Torchwood House should house all of these alien artefacts,” Jack continued.  
“But...” Gwen frowned. “If it's in the middle of nowhere, and if Ianto is send there to check on things, isn't it secured? Sounds as if there's no-one there to guard the place.”  
“That's correct,” Jack nodded. “The artefacts are stored in an underground base which has a very secure locking mechanism, but no additional stuff otherwise, not even an Archivist to keep things in order.” An offended grumble sounded from the coffee machine which Jack ignored. “The rest of the house has been opened to the public in, oh, I believe it was 2006. It's a historical mansion after all that was once visited by Queen Victoria no less.”  
Gwen looked from one to the other, then she snorted, unimpressed. “I have to agree with Ianto. Who has the stupid idea to let tourists trampling over highly dangerous artefacts!”  
“Thank you, Gwen!”  
Jack ignored Ianto once more, and instead chuckled again. “I love you Welsh people.” This now earned him two scathing looks instead of one.  
“And what precisely have you two been squabbling about now?” Tosh asked innocently.  
“I want to go with him,” Jack stated promptly, pouting in Ianto's direction. “But he doesn't want me to come. Says I have no real use there.”  
Owen snorted at that. “You just wanna fuck in peace all day long.”  
Jack gasped in mock affront, but with an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes. “We would never!”  
“Yeah, yeah,” Owen scoffed cynically.  
“And that is precisely the reason why you won't come with me,” Ianto stated decidedly, coming over with a tray of coffee mugs. “I'll never get anything done with all the harassment I'd be subjected to.”  
“You make me sound like a rogue who can't keep his hands with him,” Jack grumbled into his coffee.  
“Believe me, the credits for that don't belong to me,” Ianto deadpanned. And with that, he marched back down into his own Archives decidedly.

Despite Jack being the boss and all, he didn't get his way this time, and therefore had to let Ianto board the train to Scotland alone two days later. He pouted childishly all the while, and even the very public, very hot goodbye-kiss he received at the train station couldn't appease him completely.  
The only thing he had to look forward to in the next few weeks were e-mails and phone calls from Ianto, if even that because his lover “didn't know how much time he would find, depending on the Archive's state”.   
Great. So, Jack had to brace himself for week after week of no Weevil hunting, no Naked Hide and Seek, no coffee, having to do his paperwork alone, and, oh yeah, no sex (maybe he could persuade Ianto to phone sex at least).  
But, he was the Captain. He had endured much worse. He would endure Ianto's absence as well manfully.

He managed for two weeks, heroically, if he had to say so himself.  
But apparently, the other's opinion differed highly from his regarding the heroic because one day, they bundled him up into a train together with a duffel bag and a ticket to Aberdeenshire without a word. He blinked at them in confusion, and met their exasperated gazes.  
“What...”  
“Go to him,” Tosh said, trying to smile benevolently at him.  
“Go shag in every goddamned room that mansion has, but let us work in peace!” Owen added, rolling his eyes.  
“I...”  
“Jack,” Gwen said firmly which shut him up for good. “Since two weeks, you drive us up the wall with your moaning and whining about Ianto,” she explained patiently as if speaking to a rather thick child. “And obviously, all the phone sex in the world couldn't help there, so, just go.”  
Jack pouted. He really thought he had held his ground rather fabulously under these circumstances. He looked down at the ticket in his hand, a bright grin suddenly spreading over his face. He looked back at his chuckling team. “And you will manage without me?” he asked more out of pro forma because he knew they would.  
“You weren't of any use to us the last two weeks either, so yeah, we will manage,” Owen snorted. “Just don't break the Tea Boy. We need him back here to keep you in check.”  
Jack winked cheekily at him, and stepped onto the train as the signal of departure sounded. “Who says he won't break me.”  
The last thing he heard were the women's snickers and Owen's exasperated moan before the train doors slid shut behind him. Eagerly, he went to look for his seat, fully intending to make the most of his unexpected luck. Oh, he couldn't wait to see Ianto's face when he turned up at Torchwood House!

Frowning – and swearing under his breath –, Ianto heaved another heavy box onto his work desk, preparing to sort through the stuff that had been dumped into it. He'd really like to have a word with the brilliant mind who decided that every Torchwood branch could simply dump their junk here without even pretending to hold order, and without seeing the need to at least hire someone for said order. The last one in charge of that had probably been Yvonne, so, no luck there, but since Jack was currently responsible for this policy, heads still could roll. Very literally even. Ianto knew first hand Jack's sloppy handling of the Cardiff Archives (dump everything you had no use for or couldn't classify behind the next filing cabinet, and file the rest under oh so highly plausible categories like A for Annoying Alien, H for Hot Alien or U for Ugly Alien) which had led to one or the other evening where he had to punish Jack severely for his sacrilegious approach, so it didn't surprise Ianto in the slightest that Jack was more than okay with how things were handled out here. Only lack of time had prevented Ianto from coming here of his own accord until now; he'd been anxious to get his hands on the facilities here since he had started with Torchwood One and first learned of the state of the Torchwood Archives. Obviously, he had been, and still was, the only one who was bothered by these proceedings.  
So, although he was reluctant to leave Cardiff (Jack), he couldn't have refused Archie's call (whine for help). The minute he had stepped over the threshold of the highly secured lower levels, he had thrown himself into work with abandon from dawn 'til dusk, sometimes beyond, so that he even forgot to call Jack more than once (he tried to make up for it with enthusiastic phone sex which they both sorely needed).  
But, facts were, if Torchwood had striven for a more sensible approach handling the Archives in the first place, Ianto wouldn't have to be here now, and that was what drove him spare.   
“They only want me to bring order in here because they can't find something they need now,” he grumbled. “Otherwise, Jack and Archie would have continued with their policy.” Oh God. In Jack's case probably for hundreds of years! He felt faint even imagining Captain Jack Harkness let lose on a rampage in the Archives for decades!  
He had to put down the artefact he was holding for a moment to get his bearing again at the horrible thought.   
Arms suddenly wrapped around him from behind, and before Ianto could register a familiar smell hitting his nostrils, he cried out in shock, and instinctively wanted to reach for his gun (he had come out here unarmed though; after all, in a crisis, there were enough weapons stashed away here to conquer the whole country with single-handedly... he just couldn't remember where they were stored right that moment). He whirled around to punch his attacker instead, but froze in his tracks as he came face to face with a grinning Captain Jack Harkness. Speak of the Devil...  
“How did you get in here!?” he panted stupidly, the first thing that came to his agitated mind.  
“Duh.” Jack rolled his eyes. “I'm head of this whole business if you recall.”  
“Uhh, yeah, right.” Ianto lowered his fists which he had still raised up for attack, instead crossing his arms before his chest to glare reproachfully at Jack. “What are you doing here?” he demanded darkly.   
“Surprise!” Jack grinned, and exuberantly wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist only to lift him into the air a few centimetres and spin them both around themselves once. Thankfully, Jack let him down again immediately after. Ianto swayed for a moment on his feet before he could right himself again. He cleared his throat pointedly, and adjusted his waistcoat with dignity to stall for time while he composed himself again.  
Once more, Ianto cleared his throat. “Again; what are you doing here? I thought I told you not to come.”  
“I missed you!” Jack whined. “It wasn't the same without you. Even the Weevils were rather listless without you there.”  
Ianto raised an eyebrow, and made a disbelieving, sardonic noise. “Of course they were, Sir.”  
“They were!” Jack proclaimed rather pretentious. “I couldn't bring them with me as well to cheer them up, but at least I could put myself out of my misery. And, here I am.”  
“They send you packing, right?” Ianto asked, unfazed.  
A sheepish grin spread over Jack's handsome features. “Yeah.”  
“Thought so. Come on then. I'm done here for today.” He started towards the exit and the lift.  
“Oh, you don't have to stop on my account,” Jack assured while hurrying after Ianto. “I'll sure find something to amuse myself with.”  
“I fear to imagine,” Ianto deadpanned, and pulled Jack out of the Archives.  
“Yeah, well,” Jack admitted after the lift doors had closed behind them. “There's not much exciting around here to do, granted, but I'm a very imaginative guy.”  
“Don't I know,” Ianto sighed softly, turning his eyes heavenward, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. He startled when Jack suddenly took his hand. He looked down at their entwined hands curiously, then at Jack.  
“Are you happy that I'm here?” Jack asked with a soft, hopeful smile, but Ianto could clearly see the trepidation behind his cheerful façade. “I can leave if you want.”  
And all of a sudden, all strain went out of Ianto, his shoulders sagging in relaxation. He smiled lovingly at Jack, and squeezed his hand. “No. Sorry. I'm really happy that you're here. 'S kind of lonely sometimes.”  
He knew he had said the right thing when Jack beamed at him, the warmth and brightness of his smile figuratively illuminating the whole lift as well as Ianto's heart.   
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “It was a long journey after all.”  
Jack eagerly beamed at him again. “Yeah, I'm starving.”

Fortunately, Ianto had the manor's kitchen rather well-stocked. There was a more modern but smaller kitchen down in the Archives, but there was a certain charm to cook in such an old, historical kitchen, not having to rely on any modern technique to aid you. Not permanently, mind you, but for a few weeks, it was a nice, challenging change. He even brewed his coffee manually. It had taken him a few days to get it perfect, but by know, there wasn't any difference to his machine brewed coffee. He was kind of proud about that, and couldn't wait for Jack to praise him in the morning.   
Since he now had an eager, hungry Captain sitting expectantly at the sturdy oak desk in the kitchen (and Ianto just now realised how sturdy the thing was... he surely wasn't the only one who suddenly had rather lovely ideas what to do with such a beautiful specimen of British craftsmanship), he was glad that he had prepared a large batch of soup only yesterday. This morning, he'd even baked fresh bread, being rather pleased with the outcome of his culinary attempts so far although normally, it was Jack's range of expertise.   
So, he just had to heat up the soup on the old stove that was powered with only wood and fire (he was an expert in stoking a fire by now as well).  
Jack inhaled deeply the delicious scents wafting up towards him as Ianto put a bowl of soup before him together with some bread he'd roasted lightly over the fire as well. “What is it?”  
“Potato soup.”  
“Great,” Jack beamed, always happy with something to eat. “What's in it?” He eagerly looked up at Ianto, obviously expecting a serious answer.  
Ianto pretended to think hard about it. “Well... Potatoes, I believe.”  
“Smart ass,” Jack grinned.  
“But you love my ass,” Ianto replied, deadpan.  
“That I do.” With a lecherous grin, Jack reached out to try to pull Ianto towards him, but the younger man resisted, skilfully weaselling out of Jack's grasp. “Food'll get cold.”  
Jack pouted. “Spoilsport.”  
“That's me.” Ianto sat down impassive, and started on his own dinner.

Ianto hadn't realised how much he had missed Jack. Hard work had distracted him from his loneliness, but when he'd lain in his bed in one of the guest rooms (not the one Queen Victoria stayed in; that would have been too weird) at night over the course of the last two weeks, he'd more than once wished Jack was here. His yearning had led to more than one late-night call which the Captain had received equally as gladly, mounting into some steaming rounds of phone sex. The aftermaths after the call had ended had been even more lonely than before, though.  
But now that he held Jack in his arms, the older man sound asleep (probably for the first time since Ianto had gone away) and squished against Ianto's body, both of them worn out after some thorough rounds of getting reacquainted (including testing the sturdiness of the kitchen table which, Ianto made a mental note, he had to give a rigorous wipe-down tomorrow), he realised what he had missed those two weeks. It wasn't just the sex, fantastic as it was. It was Jack's company, irritating and bold and randy as he sometimes was. It was the whole package that Ianto had missed terribly.  
God! He chuckled. He was turning into such a sob. It had been two god-damn weeks. The only consolation was that Jack had obviously fared even worse than he. Chuckling softly, he snuggled against Jack, and kissed him fondly on the forehead before he settled down to sleep himself.

The next day though, he was vividly reminded why he had not wanted Jack to come here. Breakfast was harmonious enough (after a very relaxing, very long shower together), filled with amicable chatter and bantering as well as stolen kisses here and there – and the occasional groping from Jack's side. But then, as happy as Ianto was to have Jack's company, he had to get back to sort out the Archives. Sadly, this wasn't a holiday they took together but work. He was okay with Jack trailing behind him into the vast vaults, and for a while, the Captain managed to amuse himself – to be truthful, Ianto didn't really want to know how he managed that. But after a while, Jack stealthily crept closer and closer to where Ianto was working, starting harmless conversation or commenting on the artefact here and there Ianto currently held. Some of it was even quite helpful since a lot of things had been dumped here without ever having been identified. He seriously considered sitting Jack down before the database to let him go through the unidentified objects. At least this would counteract the Captain's very obvious boredom that was starting to creep up on him, and it would help Ianto tremendously. But before Ianto could suggest his idea, Jack started to become more bothersome. He got into Ianto's personal space, his restless hands starting to wander over the younger man's body greedily and restless, and when he playfully bit Ianto's neck, he almost dropped the object he was handling, startled.   
“Jack!” he exclaimed, annoyed, and whirled around to the older man. “I have to work here! Would you please keep your distance.”  
The Captain pouted, and an unhappy whine escaped him. “But I'm bored!”  
“You knew that this is the middle of nowhere before coming here,” Ianto argued, trying to stay patient.  
“Yeah, but I thought you...”   
“And you knew perfectly well that I wouldn't have time for you which was why I didn't take you with me in the first place,” the younger man continued sternly, picking up the artefact again, hell-bent on ignoring Jack for now. 

Looking like the cat that got the canary, a satisfied little grin playing around Jack's lips, the Captain had hopped onto Ianto's work desk, his legs dangling like a little child sitting on the kitchen counter waiting for the cookies to be ready. Only that he already had got his cookies, and, complying with their deal, kept his distance from now on. Maybe the vivid memories of what they had done just now, and simply looking at Ianto's once more impeccably put together person (even if the younger man couldn't hide the endearing flush of his cheeks or his slightly dishevelled hair which he hadn't noticed yet) would bridge him over until dinner. Or a tea-time quickie.   
His grin getting a little brighter at the thought, Jack snatched up one of the objects that lay strewn around him on the work table.  
“Jack!” Ianto said without looking up from his work.   
“Hm?” he made innocently.  
“Put that down. Nothing good ever came of you fiddling with the odd alien artefact.”  
“It's completely harmless,” Jack assured, holding the object up for Ianto to see which the other man didn't because he didn't deign to look at Jack at all. He lowered it again, and continued to fiddle with it. “It's just a holding unit.”  
“For what?” Ianto sounded slightly perturbed.   
He shrugged. “Rodents. But see, it's empty. Maybe it comes in handy if we take it with u...” Jack jumped when the cylinder in his hand suddenly started to vibrate angrily, and a blue light blinked like mad. He dropped it, startled, and jumped from the desk.  
“What have you done!?” Ianto's shocked, angry voice sounded behind him, but he didn't turn around to his lover.   
“I just pushed a...”  
“Yeah, all right, I get it!” Ianto snapped. “Turn it off.”  
“I can't!” Jack cried.   
“Great. Just great.”  
Together, they had to watch as in the course of only a few seconds, the cylinder suddenly split open, and a bright flash of light poured out. Then, an enormous slimy... glob sat before them. It blinked at them from beady little eyes (twelve of them) that somewhere sat in the upper part of the body. The two men stared back warily.  
All of a sudden, the thing moved. Surprisingly fast, it rolled and tumbled and splashed through the vast corridors of the Archives like a destructive wave of viscous slime, leaving behind a disgusting trail of said slime that persistently covered everything in its wake.  
Feeling as if he wanted to cry – or murder a specific someone –, Ianto stood there gaping after the retreating slime alien that dared to sully his hard work.   
Eventually, he found his voice again. “Jack!” he burst out reproachfully, and glared at the Captain who stood beside him with a contrite, confused look on his face.  
“I really thought it was empty!” he tried to defend himself.  
“I love it when you think!” Ianto screamed in helpless outrage. “The outcome's surely an adventure every time!”  
Jack winced slightly, and instinctively wanted to hide somewhere, but instead, he drew himself up to his full height, and threw Ianto a flashing, confident grin. “Don't worry. We'll catch it. Come on.”  
And with that, Jack grabbed Ianto's hand and the cylinder with the other, and dashed after the elusive alien, dragging his enraged lover behind him who only got madder with every slime covered shelve they passed.

They had to abort their chase in front of a slime encrusted drain gate.  
Jack grinned sheepishly as he felt Ianto's death-glare bore into him. “Looks like it escaped into the sewers,” he stated the obvious cheerily.  
“Oh, really,” Ianto replied, sarky.   
Jack scratched his head at a loss. “I thought the whole estate was a closed circuit.” He tapped away on his Vortex Manipulator. “But looks like it isn't. The sewers are connected to the village's.”  
“Marvellous,” Ianto grumbled. 

The two Torchwood agents dashed back into the Archives, arming themselves with various weapons that maybe could help against a slime alien, as well as scanners to be able to track it down in the first place, and hurried upstairs and into the car Ianto had rented for his stay here because walking the three miles into the village for supplies was out of the question. With Jack driving, they reached the small, rustic village in the blink of an eye.  
It was quiet around, not many people on the streets since it was early afternoon and raining slightly.   
Letting the scanners work for a few moments, Ianto managed to zoom in on to the alien's location right under their feet down in the sewers a few streets from where they had parked the car.   
For a moment, they stood undecided in front of a sewer cover, staring hard at it with dark expressions.  
“I'm going down there,” Jack declared suddenly, and prepared himself to climb down into the sewers that were grumbling and gurgling ominously with something wet and slimy flowing past them under their feet.  
“Not with that coat on, you don't,” Ianto objected commandingly.  
Jack stared at Ianto, a pout forming on his lips. “You're more concerned for the coat than me?!”  
“You repair yourself. The coat, I have to repair.”  
“Pff, see if I care.” But nonetheless, Jack obediently stripped off his coat, and handed it to Ianto. He mock-glared at the younger man. “We'll talk about this.”  
“Can't wait, Sir,” was the impassive reply.  
Huffing again, Jack climbed through the sewer cover.

In the meantime, Ianto waited up on the street patiently, wincing every time Jack cried out – clearly not in pain but in disgust – down there in the darkness, and instinctively pressed the precious greatcoat tighter against his chest. After a few more minutes of anxious waiting, Jack's slime covered hand suddenly emerged victoriously from the manhole, the containment cylinder clasped tightly in his fist, obviously filled again. Then, the rest of Jack emerged, grinning broadly in victory despite the sorry state he was in. Hastily, Ianto jumped back as the Captain climbed out.   
“Got it!” he grinned, and eagerly showed Ianto the container again. The young man nodded, and smiled at Jack like he would at a dutiful dog that had fetched a stick. He refrained from patting Jack's head, and instead clung even tighter to the coat.   
A slightly cold wind started up, making Jack shiver, and inevitably, it cooled the warm slime clinging to him rapidly. Breathing heavily and trying not to move lest more now cold, sticky slime spread into creases of his body slime definitely didn't have any business to be, he suddenly looked around, and noticed a few villagers staring at them wide-eyed, an exasperated pout forming on his lips.  
“Do we have any Retcon?” 

They hadn't since Ianto had assumed that he wouldn't need something like this out here. No Rift, no stray aliens, nothing that would warrant to erase people's memories. He should have known better the moment Captain Jack Harkness had stepped over the threshold of Torchwood House.  
Drawing on his quick, creative thinking in a crisis, Ianto hastily explained to the baffled villagers that the sewers had been clogged with some very unhealthy industrial waste from the industrial estate a few miles north. So, it wouldn't be advisable to touch the slime that Jack trailed all over the street, but he assured them that with some water, it could be washed away again. He hoped.  
Still sceptical, the villagers accepted Ianto's explanation with an unfazed grunt, and returned back into their homes.   
That left Ianto with the next problem. Getting Jack back to Torchwood House.  
“What do you mean, no?!” Jack gaped at him incredulous.  
Ianto raised a pointed eyebrow. “You can't really believe I let you into the rented car in this state?”  
The Captain pouted, and crossed his arms before his chest (which he regretted immediately as more slime oozed through his clothes on to his skin with a disgusting squelching sound). “I pay for the car anyway, so what!”  
“No.” Ianto started for the car, prepared to bodily block Jack from getting in. “I'll still need it while I stay here, so I won't have you ruin the upholstery now!”  
“Ianto!” Jack started to whine like a stroppy toddler, not caring if that made him appear like said toddler. “This stuff is getting cold! It's disgusting. You can't let me walk three miles!”  
Ianto frowned for a moment, then he nodded briskly. “All right,” he amended, and Jack beamed at him, wanting to start for the car again, but Ianto's upheld hand stopped him again. “You can ride on the roof.”  
Flabbergasted, Jack stared at his lover, opening and closing his mouth, but no words wanted to come forth.   
“What!?” he eventually spluttered, but Ianto had crossed his arms before his chest, and his expression was final.   
For a few long moments, the two men stared at each other in a duel of wills, but in the end, Jack slumped, and sighed heavily, put upon. “Okaaay. As if I haven't been humiliated enough already today.”  
But Ianto wouldn't give in, still glaring firmly and mercilessly at Jack.   
Grumbling, the Captain clambered up onto the car's roof, settling down cross-legged and with his hands gripping the carrier. It had been ages since he'd felt so ridiculous.  
Hmpfing satisfied, Ianto stored the coat safely on the passenger seat, and got behind the wheel. After starting the car, the first thing he had to do was starting the windscreen wipers to wipe away the slime that had begun oozing from Jack onto the roof and down the windscreen. Since he was all right with this mess on the outside of the car, he left it at that, and slowly made his way back to Torchwood House, the whole time being highly aware of the sulking, slime-oozing Captain on the roof. 

The one good thing about this whole mess was that Jack could look forward to get a thorough cleaning by Ianto. Not out of pity but because otherwise, the younger man wouldn't let Jack into his bed. So, first, Ianto unceremoniously dumped him into the shower, clothes still on. He probably could consider himself fortunate that Ianto turned on the hot water and not the cold. Because according to Ianto's thunderous expression, his lover was still angry about the whole slime monster affair since, okay, it had been Jack's fault indeed. A bit.  
But after Ianto had dragged Jack out of the shower, and had gruffly stripped him of his sodden clothes, his expression had turned milder, and he had handled Jack's body with slightly more care as he gently pushed him into the ancient claw-foot tub filled with steaming hot water, and had eased himself behind Jack.   
Relieved – and trying to hide his satisfied grin –, Jack relaxed back against Ianto's chest.  
“I forgive you,” Ianto declared with a sniff while sitting up, and briskly starting to wash Jack's hair. Despite the slightly brusque handling, Jack enjoyed the younger man's ministrations immensely because he knew that he had been forgiven a while ago already. If Ianto was peeved, he reacted hod-headedly. His serious fury was cold, and on these occasions, he would only show Jack his impassive, professional mask, and otherwise ignore him. That actually stung. But Ianto's raging and his outbursts on the other hand were quite fun, and Jack loved to carefully rile him up. The make-up sex after such an outburst was fantastic. So, all was well again, and he could simply relax for now, and enjoy Ianto's fingers firmly massaging his scalp.  
They stayed in the tub until the water turned cold, and, instead of getting out, decided for a refill (the perks about this old manor being a top secret, high-tech storing facility was that behind the ancient stone walls, everything was modern, meaning electricity, unimpeded Wi-Fi, and endless hot water).  
“Jack?”  
“Hm?” Jack was almost asleep, Ianto's soothing hands all over his body doing their best to lull him into sleep.   
“What about my Archives?”  
Jack grinned at Ianto's possessiveness, but decided to answer very careful lest he challenged Ianto's hot temper again today. “I've encountered this thing before. On it's home planet, it's vermin. I believe I've seen a canister of pesticide specially developed against this particular slime.” Jack waved his hand about, splashing water everywhere. “I'll just spray everything down there with that stuff, let it settle in for a day, et voila! Good as new.”  
“With pesticide and letting it settle in, you mean I can't work down there for a day,” Ianto interpreted Jack's words impassively.  
“Ehm, yeah,” Jack chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry. But it's only for a day, I swear. And there's a whole lot of other things we can do beside work!”  
Ianto couldn't suppress a chuckle of his own at Jack's enthusiasm. “Pretty convenient, hm?”  
“Unintended, but yeah.” Jack turned his head to grin at his younger lover.   
“Okay, okay,” Ianto laughed. “Taking one day off will surely do me some good.”  
“Of course it will. You've worked non-stop since coming here, knowing you.” Jack glared at Ianto questioningly over his shoulder.   
Caught, Ianto evaded Jack's scrutinising gaze, and mumbled something under his breath.  
“Great.” The Captain clapped Ianto's knees peeking out of the water. “This will be absolutely brilliant.”

As if he had ordered it for their unanticipated free day, the weather the next morning was a beautiful, sunny winter day, the sky a clear blue without any clouds in sight. Jack vibrated with excitement when he spied this fantastic weather outside, and awaited Ianto eagerly when the younger man emerged from the bathroom, his slender body only covered with a towel around his enticing hips. But Jack shoved the temptation of this delectable sight firmly aside, and instead focussed on Ianto's face. He indicated the suit Ianto had laid out for the day. “As much as I love your suits, and as much as I admire your fashionable determination to wear suits even in the middle of nowhere where nobody can even marvel at you wearing them, but do you have any other clothes with you?”  
Ianto frowned, but nodded carefully. “Why?” he asked distrustfully.  
“Have you looked outside already? It's beautiful. We could take a walk.”  
Ianto looked into Jack's eager, hopeful face, and then sneaked a peek outside the window. It really was a beautiful day. He smiled at Jack. “Okay, why not. Can you pack a few sandwiches for us, and get out the Thermos I have stashed in one of the cupboards? I quickly dress, then I make us some coffee to take with us.”  
Jack saluted him with a cheeky grin, and rushed from the room like an eager kid on Christmas morning. Smiling fondly after his lover – inwardly glad that out here, Jack had the chance to be completely carefree for a change –, Ianto put the suit away, and took out more suitable clothes for a walk through the Scottish landscape.  
He met Jack down in the kitchen where he already had a stack of sandwiches waiting, munching on one since they hadn't eaten yet. He held out one to Ianto who took sporadic bites while preparing their coffee (for which, or rather, his brewing skills, Jack had really praised him in very imaginative fashions the first morning).  
Not long after, they were ready to go, Jack all the while marvelling at Ianto's informal clothes consisting of jeans, a hoody, boots and a thick parka so that Ianto had to watch out for any stray groping fingers near his ass.  
“Have I ever told you that I loved the way you looked when we went to the Brecon Beacons?” the Captain asked as they left, heading for the vast countryside belonging to the estate that extended for miles behind Torchwood House.   
“Yeah, you have,” Ianto chuckled. “And no, I won't turn up to work like that ever again.”  
“You do now.”  
“That's not work,” the younger man objected, “because a certain someone I could name decided to destroy my work place.”  
“Pfft, it's not destroyed.”  
“Your luck that this pesticide was stored down there,” Ianto snorted, but stopped when Jack suddenly grabbed his hand.  
“Let's not fight about this any more, yeah?” the Captain pleaded seriously. “I'm really sorry, but I'm not sorry that I can spend the day with you as a result.”  
Ianto looked calmly at Jack before he smiled at him and squeezed his hand, out here – where nobody could see them – more uninhibited in his affections than back home in Cardiff (okay, despite that goodbye-kiss, but that had been exceptional circumstances with both of them mentally fuddled with pain of separation at the time). “Sorry,” he apologised. “I won't bring it up again. Promise.”  
Jack beamed at him, and jauntily dragged him up a grassy, heather-grown hill. Ianto's carefree laugh echoed over the hills at Jack's exuberant, joyful behaviour.   
They walked for some time, or rather strolled since they had all the time in the world today, only talking occasionally about this and that. The rest of the time, they didn't need to talk. It had always been like that; both men didn't see the need for words if they weren't really necessary, they understood each other without words. It was comfortable and amicable without any constant chatter, and Ianto felt warmed from the inside at this normal couple-y thing they were doing, simply taking a walk on a sunny day. It was quite nice.   
“Come on!” Jack exclaimed after a while, excitedly pointing at a comparatively high hill, once more dragging Ianto forward by his hand.  
Ianto laughed loudly at him, letting himself be pulled up the hill. “I see, that's the height withdrawal talking in you.”  
Jack threw him a cheeky grin over his shoulder. “Yeah, horrible. No high rooftops far and wide here in Scotland!”  
“Scandalous.”  
“It really is.”  
By now, they had reached the top of the hill, and Ianto saw with amusement that Jack seemed to breathe easier up here, his shoulders sagging in relaxation. He shook his head fondly.  
“Isn't it great up here!” Jack asked keenly, and turned around himself once, taking in the vast, austere landscape. Exuberant, he stepped up behind Ianto, pressing himself close, and gripping his shoulders tightly. “See, this way? There's the sea!” He turned Ianto in the right direction. The younger man snorted, amused, and stared out over hills on end. “Yeah, with a few hundred miles between us.”  
“Doesn't matter. It's great, all this vast, wild land here on Earth. Ev'rything was so much smaller where I grew up, a tiny peninsula with lots of sand, but at least we had the ocean. I loved it.”  
“That's a talent of you,” Ianto said softly, smiling lovingly at him over his shoulder, happy that Jack had told him something about his childhood of his own free will since that was normally an off-limits topic.  
Jack frowned uncomprehendingly. “What?”  
“Finding beauty in the ordinary.”  
Jack smiled, but drew Ianto even closer, folding his arms across Ianto's chest. “And the extraordinary,” he sighed, and squeezed the young man in his arms pointedly.  
Ianto swallowed heavily, and for a moment, he enjoyed basking in Jack's adoration for him, but then, he became flustered all of a sudden at the highly emotional atmosphere between them, and he grasped Jack's hands crossed over his chest. “Come on,” he said cheerfully. “Let's eat, yeah?”  
Jack nodded, and they settled down under a solitary gnarled tree that sat on the hill they were on. Jack leaned against the rough bark, and pulled Ianto down between his spread legs, his greatcoat serving as a blanket on the cold grass. Enveloped in an amicable silence, they munched on their sandwiches, and afterwards, to Jack's delight, Ianto produced some chocolate chip cookies from his rucksack he had packed in a last-minute decision.  
Utterly happy, Ianto snuggled back into Jack's embrace, and listened to the older man suddenly start telling him more snippets from his long life while sharing the Thermos between them and the cookies. When Jack was content, he sometimes shared some of his life with Ianto. Not the bad stories. These Ianto gently coaxed from him when the older man woke up screaming from a nightmare, shivering and sweat-soaked. Then, he drew Jack back into his arms soothingly, and animated him to talk. And haltingly, Jack did. It weren't even the fantastic, boisterous stories full of sex he sometimes told the team. No. In moments like this, he told the happy stories. The stories of a time long gone by, of people long gone by. There was always a certain wistfulness in Jack's voice, but that was probably something that couldn't be helped. But nonetheless, Ianto could clearly hear how happy the immortal had been in these moments. Ianto loved listening to Jack telling him, and only him, of these times. After, he always wrote down everything Jack had told him, recording every tiny information meticulously in his diary. And his mind. And he only wished that one day far, far into the future, Jack would tell another lover equally as fondly of the memories he had made together with Ianto Jones...  
Although the sun shone down on them, it was winter, and soon, Ianto started to shiver despite Jack's arms and coat around him.  
“Shall we go back?” Jack mumbled into his neck, and Ianto nodded.  
“At least let's get moving to warm up a bit again.”  
“Sure. I know the perfect way to get warm again.”  
Raising a sceptical eyebrow, Ianto let himself be pulled to his feet, and yelped as suddenly, Jack spun him around and pressed him against the trunk of the tree. “Ja... What!?”  
Confused, Ianto stared at his lover who only winked at him cheekily, and dropped to his knees before him, his hands straying to Ianto's belt.  
The younger man threw his head back and moaned, partly exaggerated, partly aroused, but willingly let Jack have his way with him. 

Having learned from his screw up two days ago, Jack still accompanied Ianto into the Archives when it was save to go down there again, but he obediently kept his hands to himself. After Ianto had marvelled that the pesticide really had miraculously neutralised all of the slime, he had let Jack stay, and now indeed asked the older man to check the already catalogued unidentified artefacts if he could identify them. Jack happily set to it, and with one ear, Ianto listened to Jack telling funny or exciting or embarrassing stories about this or that object when he could actually identify one.   
The mood between them while they worked was incredibly easy. During their breaks, Jack took over cooking since he was better at it, but once and again, they shared the task, and it was even fun doing it this way like a normal couple would. One evening, they even drove the short distance to the village to have dinner in a rural, charming old pub even if Ianto had to admit afterwards that the Scottish cuisine wasn't really to his liking. The nights (and afternoon breaks) were reserved for another kind of fun. They didn't limit themselves to Ianto's bed, though. Almost all of the rooms in the huge manor had been christened by now one way or the other, and the thought that in a few weeks tourists would rush through these rooms, marvelling at the old interior, had them both snickering (they even had a tumble in Queen Victoria's bed; for a one time experience, it was justifiable after all).   
It was like a dream.   
The dream ended abruptly when barely a week after Jack had come here, Gwen and Owen suddenly stood before the door of Torchwood House. They bustled inside like a horde of elephants into a china shop, breaking the peaceful, relaxed intimate togetherness. Disappointed – even peeved, they had to admit –, the two men looked at each other over Gwen's head who was chattering on unimpeded about how they had wanted to come pick Jack up on a whim, and yes, the Hub was secure, and the Rift was of course manned by Tosh for the night, they would be back tomorrow anyway. But now, it was really time for Jack to return into reality.  
Sighing, but resigning themselves to the inevitable, Jack and Ianto greeted the others with amicable if a little strained smiles that none of the other two even noticed.   
In order to amuse the team, they decided to visit the same pub they had had dinner at only a few days earlier. At least, the experience turned out nice after all. Ianto had to admit that he had missed the others (somewhat), even Owen. Parts of him. What he surely hadn't missed were Owen's drunken, surreal conversations, though.   
“If you were a woman,” Owen slurred drunkenly, breaking the intoxicated stupor they were all in, “and if you'd been a virgin when you were turned immortal...” He frowned while he gathered his thoughts, scrutinising Jack closely. “Would your body always be that of a virgin ev'ry time you revived? Pretty inconvenient I imagine...”  
Jack snorted in reply while Gwen giggled almost uncontrollably. Ianto just groaned in exasperation. There it went. He'd never get drunk again with Owen Harper (he'd sworn that the last time already, and look where he was now). The doctor's alcohol induced mind came up with the strangest ideas sometimes. That, or he became randy. Ianto recalled with a shudder this one time they had all become wasted after Jack had run away with the Doctor... He shook himself. Best not to dig out these memories again. He'd been scarred for life enough as it was. He decided to try to block out Owen's voice and the memories by burying his sorrows in his own glass.

Still surprisingly level-headed, Ianto assigned to his two team mates the two guest bedrooms that were farthest from his own. Even though the mood was slightly sullied anyway, he didn't want any eavesdroppers on his last night together with Jack to top it all. The walls weren't that thick...   
The next morning found them all in various stages of a hangover. Except for Jack. A lot more alcohol than he had had last night was needed to get him thoroughly wasted. Therefore, it was his task to drive back, and, Ianto had to admit a little spiteful, he hoped Gwen and Owen suffered during Jack's driving the whole way back to Cardiff.   
Though sober, Jack wasn't in the best mood either. He'd hoped to stay here a couple of days more although inside, he knew that he couldn't leave the rest of his team manning the Rift alone for that long only because he missed his lover. Sighing, he stowed his luggage in the SUV's trunk, and turned to Ianto, the other two already moaning and suffering in the car. He smiled a little wistfully at him. “I'm sorry. I would've liked to stay longer.”  
Ianto returned the gloomy smile bravely. “Yeah, I would have liked that. At least now I get on with things again.”  
“That's probably for the best, yeah.”  
“The sooner I can return to Cardiff.”  
“Right. How long do you think you'll need?”  
“Hmm, maybe one more week. Two at the most.”  
Jack looked sternly at him. “I definitely favour the one week option.”  
“Me too.” Ianto smiled crookedly at him.  
Jack stepped closer, and cupped his lover's cheeks gently, looking him deep in the eye. “Send me the list of unidentified artefacts. I can take a look during the long, lonely nights. Not much to do otherwise.”  
“All right, thanks.” Ianto raised a pointed eyebrow. “But try to sleep a little, okay? Even you need some sleep.”  
“I'll try. Promise.”  
“Good.”   
They fell silent for a moment, not knowing what to say any more. The sudden angry, impatient honking, courtesy of Owen, surely, made them jump.  
“Okay then... I better...”  
“Yeah,” Ianto agreed, but still, none of them made any attempt to part from each other.   
Coming to a sudden decision, Ianto leapt forward, and crushed his lips against Jack's. Surprised but delighted, Jack quickly wrapped his arms tightly around Ianto, and returned the kiss enthusiastically.   
Another exasperated honk drove them apart eventually. They threw each other a last crooked, yearning smile, then Jack reluctantly set his leaden feet into motion towards the SUV.   
“Call me, yeah? And come back home soon.”  
“Of course. Drive safe, will ya. I've work enough out here to last me a lifetime. I'm not really keen on looking for new personnel the moment I come home on top of it because you managed to kill all of you with your driving.”   
“Yeah, yeah.” Jack waved dismissively at him, and finally climbed into the SUV.   
Ianto stayed in the manor's driveway, looking after the rapidly departing SUV, and after a few minutes already, the car had disappeared completely behind a hill in the distance.   
Sighing, Ianto turned around to heed back inside the manor. There was a lot of work still waiting for him. But Jack's visit, despite not having gotten done as much as he had wanted because of Jack during that time, had given him more incentive to get through with his work so that he could get back to Cardiff as soon as possible.   
Determinedly, he got into the lift down to the Archives, shedding his suit jacket, and briskly rolling up his sleeves.  
End


End file.
